The Adventure With the Doctor and the Beast
by Sandylee007
Summary: A man waking up at a morgue and a wild beast's victim having been found in the middle of London are only just the beginning. When the 10th Doctor and Sherlock Holmes meet it's the encounter of two brilliant minds. But are their joined efforts enough to find the killer before it's too late? And what happens when someone is revealed to have a huge secret that may change everything?
1. The Morning of the Living Dead

A/N: Okay, so… I was supposed to type forward another project when this one ambushed me. Completely out of nowhere. It was scary, really! As for the final result… I'll let you decide.

WARNINGS: some violence and a bit of gore, language, adult themes… one character being revealed to have a massive secret… heh, the usual lot

DISCLAIMER: Oh, I wish…! But nope, I own nothing about these two BRILLIANT TV-shows. (sighs sadly)

Awkay… This is my first ever crossover on these shows and just my second ever 'Who' related fic so I'm insanely nervous. So, before I chicken out… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

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><p><em><strong>The Adventure With the Doctor and the Beast<strong>_

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><p>The Morning of the Living Dead<p>

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><p>The wind was blowing bitterly through London while two men made their way towards the edge of Thames, a thoughtful silence surrounding them. Neither was fazed by the large group of police men already buzzing there. Nor were they overly upset to see a covered corpse nearby the river bank, although the sight definitely wasn't pleasant.<p>

Just another day in the lives of hat detective Sherlock Holmes and his faithful blogger Dr. John Watson.

One of the Yarders already examining the grim sight began to approach quickly the second he spotted them. "About bloody time you showed up!" DI Gregory Lestrade chided. "I texted you two hours ago."

John gave the man a loudly speaking look. Apparently the doctor had had a very, very long morning. "He had to finish his latest experiment first."

Sherlock shrugged, deaf to the jab. The detective had already dressed himself to the proper gear and was gliding towards the body like he owned the crime scene. "I couldn't let the ears go to waste, now could I?"

Greg darted a questioning look towards John, a slight hint of green on his face. The former soldier shook his head, doing the finishing touches to his own crime scene investigator's outfit. "Trust me, you _don't_ want to know."

From wide, unfortunate experience Greg knew to take John's word for it.

By the time they reached the corpse Sherlock was already swirling around the nearby environment, fast on his way to noticing every possible clue the police had inevitably missed. "This one died at around two in the morning. So far we don't have any ID or suspects. There was also another body, found from Thames. Drowned", Greg revealed. "There was nothing that you would've been able to spot on that one so we sent him to Molly."

"I may want to visit him later." Sherlock cast a loudly demanding look at the corpse. The man's fingers were drumming impatiently. "Well?"

Greg sighed. "It's… not a pretty sight", the DI warned them. Then moved away to white blanket.

Sherlock gave no other indication to having been affected but an unexpected blink. John shivered, a very unpleasant taste rising to his throat while all color drained from his face. "Christ…!"

There on the river bank lay a naked tall, well built man of around John's age with shortcut brown hair and at the moment dead, wide grayish blue eyes. It was safe to say that his death wasn't fast and painless. There were far more bite marks and open wounds to be counted. Blood loss was definitely the cause of death. The kick marks on the ground suggested that he'd been fighting back hard and trying to escape but he never stood a chance.

"See?" There was a grim look on Greg's face. "I told you that this wouldn't be a pretty sight."

"No human would've been able to do this", Sherlock muttered, examining the deceased intently. "At least without the proper equipment. And the fang marks are too large for any dog breed."

"So…" John was quiet for a moment, processing. "You're saying that this was done by some… large wild animal? We don't have anything like that here in the middle of London."

"That's the mystery, isn't it?"

Right there Sherlock's keen eyes discovered something. Glowing in the faint light of a Autumn morning's lazy sun. He frowned, moving closer.

It was some sort of a metallic stick. Like a pen or a screwdriver, only bigger as well as much too bizarre and expensive looking to be either. And then, of course, there was the strange yet extremely beautiful bluish green shine.

John and Greg both leaned closer, examining the object with baffled expressions. "What the hell is that?" the DI breathed out.

"I don't know", Sherlock grumbled after a prolonged pause, the admission tasting bitter on his tongue. He frowned, turning the mystery item in his glowed hands. "But this case just became interesting."

Well, perhaps it wasn't just another day, after all.

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><p>In general Molly Hooper liked her job. Well, at least as much as it was proper for anyone to enjoy the work of a coroner. But facing the bodies was never a pleasant task. And this one had drowned. Those were always amongst the nastiest cases.<p>

Molly took a breath, bracing herself for a gruesome sight. Then moved away the white sheet. Only to face anything but what she'd expected.

The man on her table looked nothing like someone who'd spent ages underwater. In fact he looked… very good, in far more ways than she cared to think about at the moment. Someone who'd been found early on, then. Small mercies.

Molly was about to proceed until something made her freeze entirely. Was the victim's chest moving? No, he couldn't be…!

At a astonishing speed her hand flew to the bare skin of his chest. It was still a bit warm, although he'd spent a while in Thames in a bitter October morning and afterwards quite a while on her table, waiting to be processed. The heat wasn't all she felt, though. There, underneath her hand, a heart was beating.

Molly's eyes widened while _her_ blood ran cold. "Oh my god…!" she gasped, staggering a step backwards. _This can't be happening…!_

After a few moments of pure shock she finally began to move, as though in a trance. Trembling to the core of her being she leaned closer and closer, until her head was pressed against his chest. Sure enough, there was a heartbeat, directly underneath her ear. And… Hang on a moment…

Another heartbeat underneath her hand, which was also pressed against his torso.

If such was possible Molly's eyes widened even further while she backed away once more, her own heart racing and her mind whirring a million miles per hour. What _the hell_ did she just hear? Was she going crazy or was there something seriously wrong with the corpse before her? Aside the fact that he refused to stay dead, obviously.

And then his eyes flew open, revealing two pools of vivid brown.

Molly's head was spinning so badly that it was a miracle she didn't pass out while he sat up quickly, looking around with clearly visible curiosity. "Where am I…?" he muttered to himself, his voice a bit raspy and scarcely audible. His eyes then widened with realization. "Oh…!" Slowly, slowly he looked down, taking in his state of undress. He blinked twice, very quickly. "Oh!" That, apparently, was when he finally chose to notice her. "There was a woman with me, Donna. What happened to her?"

Molly could only stare. When she finally spoke her voice was absolutely pathetic. "You… You're dead", she sputtered.

"Nope." He was about to jump off the table when he seemed to remember once more that he was naked. He didn't quite blush but there was a degree of discomfort on his face. "Could I… have my clothes back now? I'm in a bit of a hurry."

Moving in a trance again Molly fetched a plastic bag that was supposed to be evidence and handed it to him with far from steady hands. She had the time to see a bit more than she was supposed to before she finally managed to spin around to give the dead man some privacy, a radiant heat blossoming all over her face and neckline. Her heartbeat was showing no signs of calming down and she was still struggling to figure out just what was happening.

Was this all some sort of a weird dream?

"Where is it?" She'd been so absorbed by her thoughts that his voice startled her. There was a frantic look on his face while his hands fumbled animatedly, going through his clothing. "My screwdriver. Where is it?"

"I… I'm sorry", Molly managed, just barely regaining her ability to speak. "But… That was all they found you with."

Those were clearly not the desired news. The man kept searching, twirling around in a way that under different circumstances might've seemed comical and muttering constantly under his breath. Molly, finally regaining some sanity, decided to take advantage of that distraction. She backed away to what she hoped to be out of his earshot but didn't dare to leave him alone into the room. As soon as she got to a safe distance she snatched her cell-phone although her hands were barely able to hold a thing.

Thankfully Sherlock picked up relatively quickly, for once. But he didn't sound pleased. "_I'm in the middle of a case, Molly._"

"So am I", she announced weakly and swallowed hard, unable to tear her eyes away from the stranger. "I… I have something that you may want to see. Bring Lestrade along, too."

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><p>TBC<p>

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><p>AN: Aaaaand, that's how we the adventure starts out.

So… What's the verdict? Was that any good at all? Extermination material? PLEASE, do let me know! I'd be overjoyed to hear from you.

Awkay. It's getting pretty late around here and I'm already dreaming of going to bed. THANK YOU, so much, for reading! Who knows, maybe I'll see you around one day…?

Take care!


	2. Of Werewolves and Aliens

A/N: Yup, it's time to continue this story! (grins) BUT, before moving on with the story…

THANK YOU, so very much, for all your reviews and listings! This is only just my second touch to 'Who' fiction so your support means more than you could ever imagine. THANK YOU! (hugs)

Okay, before I get cold feet or something… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

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><p>Of Werewolves and Aliens<p>

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><p>Molly Hooper had had very long day. When a man comes to life on a coroner's table it tends to issue a lot of questions. She answered those Greg had the best as she could, still more than a little shaken and convinced that she was dreaming. She was offered the rest of the day off but she refused. Somehow she had an inkling feeling that she might end up being needed.<p>

When Molly came back from fetching a much needed mug of coffee she was startled to a point where she nearly dropped the whole thing. She wasn't alone in her laboratory, after all. And to think that on most days the liveliest visitor she had was the janitor. At the moment Sherlock was there, focused intently on one of her microscopes.

Molly let a out a long, far from steady breath. It didn't calm her heart a lot. "… you scared me!…", she managed.

Sherlock muttered something she chose to take as an apology. He didn't tear his gaze away from whatever he'd been studying for even second. "Did you do as I instructed?"

Molly nodded, feeling a little dazed. "Yeah", she confirmed. She pulled out a blood-test tube. "He… didn't seem happy about being tested. Said that the results would only confuse us."

"We'll see about that." So saying Sherlock held out a hand. It took longer than it should've before she realized to offer the blood-sample and his grunt made his displeasure known.

While he continued his research Molly peered towards the microscope, trying to figure out what, exactly, he was doing. She frowned. "Is that… blood?"

"Yup." He took away the first sample, preparing the one she just brought to be examined. "From another victim. Found from the edge of Thames, close to your visitor. Something's… off."

"What is?"

For a while she wondered if he even heard her. "The nail marks", he supplied eventually. And that was all he said for the next three minutes.

Then, so suddenly that it startled her again, he was up and putting his coat on. There was a strange look on his face. Almost like he was… shocked. "I was right", he declared and for once didn't seem happy about it. "That sample wasn't human blood."

Molly felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water on her. A shudder crossed her whole body. "Which one?"

By then Sherlock was already fast on his way towards the door. His eyes seemed troubled while he typed furiously on his cell-phone. "Neither."

Molly swallowed hard, feeling even colder than before. "Be…" But he was already gone. " … careful."

It took what felt like ages before Molly finally managed to turn back towards the samples Sherlock left behind. She kept staring at them. And knew one thing for certain.

This had to be one of those most bizarre days of her life, and considering how long she'd been working with Sherlock that was saying a lot.

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><p>Ever since she decided to travel with the Doctor Donna Noble had known that she might end up facing some… rather unbelievable things. And she hadn't been disappointed. Over the course of their adventures her heart had been hurting and racing with terror as many times as it'd been filled with pure joy over being able to discover all those wonders of the universe.<p>

There were very, very good, downright amazing days. And then there were days like this one. The moment she woke up in a hospital, notified by a timid, overly helpful nurse that she had a concussion, she knew that the cause was bound to be something-not-quite-human. She groaned, loudly.

The nurse jumped a little at the sound. "Is… Is something wrong? Do you need pain medication?"

"No", Donna announced sternly. "I need my clothes. I'm getting out of here."

The nurse's eyes widened. All color faded from the woman's face. "You just…!"

"I'll fill out whatever papers I have to. But I'm leaving, now." The headache hammering her skull was unbelievable but she knew that she had to find the Doctor. Quickly. "How long have I… been here?"

The nurse's hands trembled while she gave her the clothes. "A few hours, I think. You were found nearby Thames."

Yes, she remembered now. Bits and pieces, anyway. It was all very confusing and frustrating.

A growl.

Genuine shock on the Doctor's face.

A sharp flash of pain, something attacking her from behind.

'_DONNA!_'

"There's this man", Donna told the woman who didn't seem to know what to do. "Tall, skinny. Impossible hair. Talks and walks a lot." And she really hoped and prayed, from the bottom of her heart, that he was in the condition to do so. To imagine him still and quiet… "He… I think we were both attacked. Is he here?" Seeing the nurse's hesitation she hurried to add. "He's my brother." She'd never known that she was such a good liar.

The nurse's shoulders relaxed slightly but the troubled expression remained. "Oh! He… was brought here from the morgue."

Donna could've sworn that her heart stopped there. _No, no way in…!_ "What?"

"Don't worry, he's alright. Or seemed that way, the last time I saw him." The nurse tried to smile but it didn't exactly manage to soothe her nerves anymore. "The cold water… It must be what caused the confusion. He was checked throughoutly but he refused to stay." The woman bit her lip. "He… kept asking about you. If I'd known to make the connection…"

"Yeah, yeah, save it", Donna groaned, her headache pushing acid into the tone. Relief flooded through her intensely, though. At least the bloody maniac was still alive. _Thank god…!_ "Where is he now?"

"At the police station." The nurse didn't seem entirely sure if she was supposed to share this information. "They… had some questions for him."

Donna felt color drain from her face while dread made her stomach drop. The Doctor and police officers… Well, they wouldn't be a good combination. And now she'd have to get him out of the mess? Brilliant. He'd probably already succeeded in actually getting himself arrested.

The nurse frowned. The smaller woman's hands kept moving animatedly, indicating that she had no idea what to do with them. "Are you alright?"

Donna shook her head, feeling her blood pressure picking up significantly. _She_ was the one who would've needed two hearts to survive _him_! "I'm going to strangle him", she growled.

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><p>Over the years DI Gregory Lestrade had faced quite a bit of things that had left him baffled. Having Sherlock for a consultant made facing the unlikely – <em>impossible<em> – a likelihood. But the man on the other side of the glass in a interrogation room was quite positively the most incredible and inexplainable… _thing_ that'd ever come his way.

"So…" John blinked twice with a new line on his forehead. "Are you seriously telling me that Molly detected _two _heartbeats?"

Greg nodded slowly. "Yup." Three hours, a million repetations of those words in his head and it still didn't make the slightest bit more sense. "And don't forget that he was already dead on a slab. Molly was about to open him up when… Well."

John's shiver was clearly visible. The former army medic's eyes scanned the suspect with years' worth of field experience. "He should be in a hospital!"

"He refuses treatment. Apparently he's feeling perfectly alright. Considering how much he talks and that he won't hold still for even a second I'd say that he's right." Greg rubbed his forehead with a wince. A headache? How lovely. "I offered him a more extensive health inspection but he claimed that he's been through a lot rougher."

John gave him a surprised look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Greg resumed to glaring at the suspect. "I have no idea", he growled reluctantly. "All I know is that the best suspect I have so far is a dead man buzzing around my interrogation room with two hearts beating inside him."

Inside the room it was Sally Donovan's unfortunate task to try and continue the interrogation. "So…", she sighed, clearly bracing herself. "You said that your name is…?"

"… the Doctor", the man replied without a beat of hesitation.

Sally nodded. There was a well balanced mixture of confusion and irritation on her face. "Doctor… Who?"

"Just the Doctor." The man's fingers were drumming at the table, creating a restless yet oddly catchy beat. "I'm sorry, but I really need to go. There was an attack and Donna is still missing. I need to find her."

Sally's eyes narrowed. It was almost possible to see a vein on her forehead beginning to swell unhealthily. "You… aren't going anywhere for a bit. There's been a murder and if you're not the killer you're the only witness. You will receive medical attention if you need such but for the time being I can't let you leave." She made some more notes. "Your home address?"

The Doctor shifted slightly. The drumming intensified. " I don't really have one. I'm not… from around here."

"American?"

"A bit further." The Doctor pursed his lips. "Someone… called me a Spaceman. Something like that."

Sally stared at the man. So did the trio listening behind the glass. "Are you… trying to tell me that you're some sort of an alien?"

Greg kept staring. Then groaned, loudly. "That guy doesn't need a doctor. He needs a psych evaluation."

Sherlock, however, frowned. The detective had been terrifyingly quiet ever since joining him and John, obviously lost in his thoughts. Finally there was a sign of life. "I have a few questions for him." And then, before Greg or John could utter a word of protest, the detective marched into the interrogation room.

Sally jumped at the sudden intrusion. The Doctor glanced at the arrival with a degree of curiosity. "Sherlock!" she snarled, almost like a parent chastising a child. "You can't just…!"

Sherlock, clearly, didn't give a damn. "Could you step outside for a moment, Donovan?" Shockingly polite, really. But with a sharp edge. "I want to talk to the Doctor."

Sally considered for a long moment. Then threw her hands into the air with a groan. "Fine, fine. I'm done with him, anyway."

As soon as she'd left the room Sherlock reached out to his pocket and pulled out something shoved into a evidence bag. It was the strange screwdriver they found from the beach. A stunned gasp left Greg, followed by a long list of curses. "That bastard…! When the hell did he nick that?"

"I'd assume that this is yours", Sherlock stated, his baritone rumbling in a mixture of a growl and a purr. A wild animal on a hunt was the first thing that came to mind. The detective's eyes were sharp and calculative, obviously deducing rapidly.

The Doctor's eyes widened a barely visible fraction. "Yes. How did you…?"

"Because you just claimed that you're not from Earth and this device isn't something from this planet." Sherlock's eyes narrowed while the man leaned closer to the suspect. "You're not our killer. But you do have something to do with this."

"So…" The Doctor frowned, as though trying to deduce the detective. "You believe me?"

Sherlock scoffed. "I wouldn't go that far." The detective leaned forward, a bloodhound catching a scent. "You're a puzzle. You seem to be in your thirties but your eyes and posture suggest that you are, in fact, much older. You keep giving that smile but there's a constant grief in you. You're socially awkward but there are clearly people that you hold dear, including this… Donna you've been asking about. You've been alone for a very, very long time and that makes it hard for you to let anyone close but you _have_ been cared for. Otherwise you wouldn't have this capacity for empathy and compassion. You're very protective. I saw that flash in your eyes when I mentioned Donna's name." The detective's eyes narrowed still. The hunch was growing stronger. "You've had a family, haven't you? But not anymore. You've lost them. You seem very used to losing those you care about." One corner of Sherlock's lips twitched when he obviously saw a confirmation that was invisible to anyone else. "You've abandoned all arms and detest violence. I saw the reaction you gave to the crime scene photos. Still you keep looking for confrontations and struggles persistently. Your body and mind… They're restless and at unease without those. You're not our killer but there was a time when taking a life wasn't a feat to you." The Brit nodded to himself. "Yes. I recognize a war veteran when I see one." The man leaned backwards on his chair with folded arms, signaling that the deduction was closed. "So, I know that you haven't killed lately. But I don't have enough data to trust you."

Greg winced with pity for the poor man, John did the same with a shudder.

For a few moments, just a few moments, the Doctor looked like someone who'd just been shot at repeatedly. The man tried to disguise the tremor that crossed him with balling one of his fists for a few seconds. And then the tension and all the emotions that caused it were forced back, replaced by the already familiar air of energy and curiosity. "Fascinating…", the man murmured, tilting his head. "Are you a telepath of some sort?"

Greg honestly wished that he would've had the time to catch Sherlock's ensuing expression with a camera. It was simply priceless. "No, I'm not", the detective replied flatly.

The Doctor sighed, deflated. "Pity. They're fasinating creatures. Now…" The alien clapped his hands together. "I'm going to tell you what's going on. But then I really need to dash. There isn't a lot of time before they kill again."

John tensed up. Greg shivered. Sherlock's glare hardened. "'They'?"

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><p>It was still quite early but Harriet Watson was already stumbling while she made her way towards home. Every now and then a brief chuckle left her when she took in her own condition. Maybe the man at the park was right, after all, when announcing that she'd had one too many. He still deserved the slap she gave him.<p>

She was already standing right outside her block of flats, rummaging through her bag with drunken fingers and trying to find her keys, when she heard a growl.

Chills went through Harry while she looked around, adrenaline rendering her sober for a brief moment. There was no one. A yet another small chuckle burst through her lips while she shook her head. "You really did yourself good this time, Harry", she slurred to herself.

Exactly one second later there was another growl. This time she didn't even have the time to turn around. Her screams were left echoing into the walls but no one was there to hear.

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><p>Before seeing the samples under the microscope Sherlock would've definitely felt far less inclined to believe anything that the Doctor had to say. But he <em>had<em> seen and, much to his intense irritation, couldn't explain it. And then there were the nail marks on the body and ground that didn't belong to any known species. So he listened although he knew that he'd need far more data before he'd be even remotely convinced.

None of this felt believable, really, and a part of Sherlock was telling him to just walk out the room and let Greg hand to lunatic to psychiatric care.

The Doctor quite clearly saw his doubts. There was wariness in those somehow impossibly old eyes. "It took me a while to know why I was dragged to London. Now, of all times. Until I saw those two creatures fighting."

Sherlock's eyebrow bounced up. It was easy to see the wheels turning. "Do continue."

The Doctor took a deep breath, like a professor preparing himself for a lecture meant for particularly thick sculled students. "I'll try to keep this simple for you." He was fortunate enough to not notice the downright murderous glare aimed his way. "I trust that you're familiar with the concept of introduced species?"

Sherlock nodded. The detective's fingers were drumming agitatedly. "Yes, the cane toad in Australia. Do move on before I get bored."

The Doctor didn't seem to hear past the 'yes'. "Millenniums ago a very special canine breed was spotted on Earth. To this day it's unclear if it was an original species that mutated somehow or something that came from another planet. But those shapeshifting creatures, half wolves and half human, thrived. Back then humans knew of their existence and didn't hesitate to take advantage of their canine personality traits, strength and stamina. They, a species that still truly respects human and wants nothing but to co-exist peacefully beside them, was reduced to slaves and servants. Tools. The ancient Egyptians were particularly cruel masters." There was the slightest hint of bitterness in the bizarre spaceman's voice before the man collected himself. "In the end they couldn't take it anymore, despite the fact that they still felt immense loyalty towards human beings. So they opted to disguise themselves into their human forms, to a point where they became nothing but a stuff of legends. Rumors. Stories for books and fairytales. They remained close and kept looking after humans, serving them and helping them, but no longer dared to reveal their true appearances to anyone but each other."

Greg wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry at the surreal story. John… had gone worryingly white and the former soldier's trembling fists were balled tightly. Sherlock simply stared, unblinkedly. "Are you talking about werewolves?" the detective asked in the end, justifiably incredulous.

The Doctor chuckled. "No, no, no. You see, like almost all horror stories and fairytales even those tales are based on something very real. Despite being nothing more than whispers and echoes these creatures remained in the minds of humans. Even when the real name of their race has faded into the sands of time long ago."

It was stunning, really, how quickly Sherlock recovered himself. Saying that the detective appeared convinced would've been a dire understatement, though. "And what you said about introduced species…?"

"Ah, yes. That's the saddest part of the original species' story." The Doctor sighed. "A couple of decades ago another similar species found its way to Earth. _Danshées_. Also shapeshifters, although far less shy about their original form. But far more blood thirsty and brutal, with absolutely no regard towards human life. If they feel threatened they attack, hard. You could compare these two to domesticated dogs and wolves." The alien's jawline tightened a little. "For a while everything went well despite occasional territorial disputes. But two feral species that similar can live side by side peacefully only for so long. The territorial disputes… They've been growing more and more aggressive until they've reached the point of war. I'm sure that there have been plenty of suspicious attacks lately. The one that I witnessed… It's merely the first one that became reported as a homicide."

Sherlock kept staring. Then scoffed. "Are you honestly expecting me to believe this sci-fi story, _Doctor_?"

The Doctor gritted his teeth. "You don't understand! If this invasion isn't stopped _Danshées_ will destroy this original species!"

"I believe you." They both turned their heads towards the room's doorway. Stood there, his face chalk white but with a military posture and his hands perfectly steady, was John Watson. "You… You came all the way here to protect my kind. And I'll help you stop that massacre."

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><p>TBC<p>

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><p>AN: Oh boy…! Now that's quite a background story. And who would've thought that John would manage to keep such a secret from Sherlock!

Soooo… Was that any good, at all? PLEASE, do let me know! This story is something VERY new to me so I'd reeeelly like to hear from you.

Until next time, folks! I really hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!


	3. Aches and Blows

A/N: It took me about a day longer than I would've wanted but now the new chapter IS finally ready to be published! Hooray?

First things first, though! THANK YOU, a thousand times over, for all your reviews, listing and affection towards this story! I seriously can't believe that this one's found so many friends. You've made me incredibly happy! (BEAMS, and hugs)

Awkay, because I've already kept you waiting too long… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

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><p>Aches and Blows<p>

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><p>John's revelation was, ultimately, met by a deep, crushingly heavy silence. Well, silence apart from his thundering heart and madly rushing blood. There hadn't been many times when John would've felt as nervous.<p>

In the end the Doctor was the first one to speak. "You're one of them? Yes, of course you are!" A spark appeared to the man's eyes. "This is fascinating! Until recently I wasn't entirely sure if there were any of you still left."

John glanced towards Sherlock, the nervousness from before not easing any. The detective's expression was unreadable, almost blank. Was the man still with them? With a deep, steadying breath he nodded and focused on the stranger. "Yes, there's still a small group of us left." _For now, at least._ His jawline tightened. "Is it true? Can you help us?"

The Doctor never got the chance to respond because just then Sherlock was up, heading towards the door. John gulped. "Sherlock…"

He was interrupted immediately. "We're leaving." The detective's finger was pointed sharply at the Doctor. "And you're coming with us."

"I can't let you walk away with my suspect!" Greg exclaimed. When did the DI appear to the doorway? Their eyes met briefly. John met a lot of confusion, a bit of hurt and maybe even a hint of fear, but no disgust or rejection. It was… well, much better than he'd known to expect.

Sherlock scoffed like he'd just been insulted. "Don't be an idiot, Gary! It's blatantly obvious that he isn't your killer." The tall Brit glanced demandingly over his shoulder. "Now let's move! Baker Street is waiting."

John blinked once, slowly. The emotional overload was still taking its toll on him but at least he was starting to feel a little more functional. "Baker Street? Why?"

"Because I need to consult my Mind Palace." Sherlock's voice was unreadable and the detective was on the move again so quickly that the blogger had no time to really see his face. "And I can't do it in the presence of all those idiots in this building."

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><p>Sherlock was a proper genius and very much aware of the fact. But when it came to… <em>sentiment<em> he was in strange waters. That's why he was infuriated by the tidal wave of what could only be feelings flooding through him while the bizarre trio sat in a cab.

In a way he was thrilled and proud for figuring out what most had refused to believe. Dr. John Watson was certainly anything but ordinary. The man being something not quite human, however… He was forced to admit that he hadn't quite known to expect that.

Shock was there, obviously. Even for Sherlock Holmes it wasn't every day he ran into an alien and found out that his best friend was something atypical. He would've never believed it if John hadn't been the one to confirm the truth. There was also hurt. It stung, more than he would've cared to admit, that John hadn't told him. That the former soldier most likely never would've without this so-called Doctor's arrival. Sherlock wasn't exactly sure which one bothered him more. That he'd failed to see it or that John hadn't trusted him enough to tell.

"It wasn't about trust." John's words managed to catch him off guard. There was a troubled, nearly desperate look on the older man's face. "It's just… After spending my whole life forced to hide the truth…" The rest faded away.

Sherlock glanced swiftly to the side to discover that the Doctor was talking to his cell-phone. He knew that he should've been asking who the strange man was talking to but at the moment it failed to concern him. Instead he focused on John. His jaw was tight for a few seconds before the words fell out. "Does Mary know?"

John sighed, sinking more heavily against the seat and averting his gaze. The reaction alone answered loudly enough. "I sort of had to tell her when she got pregnant with my baby. I'm… I didn't even know that my kind could breed with humans."

Sherlock couldn't quite identify the brief jolt that crossed him. He filed it away, deciding that he'd have plenty of time to process something so pointless later. His head was whirring furiously, putting together pieces that were floating chaotically all over his mind. "It's why you joined the military." It was much more of a statement than a question.

Still John nodded stiffly, looking away. There was a mirthless half-smile on the man's face. "It's been said that I become very loyal, very quickly. Such is common for my kind."

"It's also why you were sent home", Sherlock continued the trail of thought, feeling like the puzzle was finally beginning to make sense.

A brief bang of guilt crossed him when John jolted, as though having been shot at. The former army medic's hand began to rub the leg that used to have a limp. "I… When I got shot… I began to transform, right in front of several soldiers. It was the only thing my body could think of." There was a loud, heavy gulp. "They… They said that I'd done my work exceptionally well, that I deserved respect and a million thank yous. But… They couldn't keep… someone like me. So they did the only thing they could. They discharged me honorably with the knowledge that I'd never be allowed back again."

Sherlock gritted his teeth, trying to will down the new-found storm of rage. After everything he'd done John had just been cast aside in such a manner… "Are there many of your kind in the army?" he inquired in the end.

John nodded stiffly. "Yes. But… I'd rather not name them."

Sherlock chose not to hear past the 'yes'. His mind was already dashing on, clicking forward like a well oiled machine. "Major Sholto", he muttered finally. "That's what made him special."

"Alright, that's enough, thank you." John's tone was guarded and demanding. Perhaps a little pleading. The smaller man's eyes were pure lava while glaring into his. "I'll answer any question concerning me. But I'm not going to talk to you about anyone else. That's not my place."

Sherlock nodded, feeling a sudden need to apologize. Yes, he'd have a million questions. Later. Because the Doctor had finally finished the phone-call and as he lifted his head he saw a familiar building.

"We're here", Sherlock announced, already on his way towards the comfort of 221B.

* * *

><p>As soon as they made it to the flat Sherlock, quite as expected, flopped to the couch and sunk so deep into his thoughts that it would've taken a natural disaster to pull him out. John stood frozen for a few seconds before doing the only thing he could think of. He made his way to the kitchen and began to prepare tea.<p>

He was staring at the kettle, impatiently waiting for it to boil, when he heard a bizarre sound and sensed that he wasn't alone. Turning his head quickly he saw the Doctor all but poking at him with the device that'd been found from the river bank. "Oi!" he protested. "Get that thing off me, now, thank you very much."

"Sorry." The Doctor actually did as ordered. "This is just… quite fascinating. I've never met someone of your kind."

John wasn't quite sure what to say in the surreal situation at hand. "Well…", he began at last. "The feeling is mutual." He frowned. "Where exactly did you come from, anyway? Why are you so determined to help my kind?"

"I'm just someone who ends up into… situations like this quite often and doesn't know how to leave them well alone."

John frowned. A couple of seconds ticked by. "What's that supposed to mean?"

At that very moment the tea-pot chose to whistle. They both jumped, startled. That was when John noticed something.

John's eyes flashed. And instantly his doctor mode took over. "Could you take off your shirt?"

The Doctor gave him a very long, odd look. It took several moments before a sound came out. "What?"

"Take off your shirt", John repeated with patience he'd learned with a madman of a flatmate. "Because I've heard you've been attacked violently recently. And I saw the way you just flinched when shifting unexpectedly. If you really want to help me the least I could do is to make sure that you're not badly injured or dying."

* * *

><p>Greg's headache from before was most definitely escalating while he sat in his office, his head buried into his hands. And he was almost sure that he could feel a vein swelling, about to burst. Insanity, all of it. His only suspect just having walked through the door was the least of his problems.<p>

So… He just met some sort of an alien. And, apparently, one of his friends wasn't a human at all. This was all about two similar species clashing, in London of all places.

How the hell was he supposed to do the paperwork for this one?

"Uh, sir…?" Sally Donovan's atypically hesitant voice was barely enough to break his trainwreck of thoughts. She gulped, appearing shaken. "That guy… He's definitely innocent."

Greg frowned. How was it possible that his blood pressure still kept climbing up? "How can you know?"

"Because there was just another attack, while he was here."

Only a little bit later a woman burst into the Yard. She received very suspicious looks upon demanding to see the Doctor. What Donna Noble didn't know was that she was less than five minutes late from running into Greg who was headed towards Baker Street.

* * *

><p>As soon as the Doctor had taken off his shirt, completing the task with a visible amount of difficulty, John winced with sympathy. Heavy bruising was already forming around the stranger's sides and stomach area. As soon as his fingers poked on a injured spot there was a clearly detectable shiver of protest.<p>

"I'm sorry", he apologized sincerily. He finished up as gently as possible. "It doesn't feel like anything's broken but there's some deep bruising. I'd be much happier if you'd agree to be x-rayed, though."

The Doctor shook his head. "There's no need. I'm fine."

John gave the man a dry look and sighed, admitting defeat. His gaze scanned through the rest of the alien. "Did you receive blows anywhere else?"

The Doctor seemed to consider for a while. Then, lengthily, nodded. "I may have banged my head. I was unconscious upon ending up into the water."

John gave the man an incredulous look. "And they let you leave the hospital after you told them that?" He then snorted at the fault in his logic. "Well, of course you didn't tell them." Without bothering to ask for a permission he began to feel the taller man's scalp the best as he could from the storm of hair. "What is it with you mad geniuses and impossible hair?"

"Hmm?" the Doctor inquired, as though waking up from a deep thought.

John shook his head. "I was just thinking out loud." He then frowned upon feeling a rather large swell. "You've definitely received a blow. You may have a concussion."

The Doctor shook his head. "Nah, I'm too thick sculled for that." The alien's eyes then darted towards Sherlock, who was still on the couch in his thinking pose. A frown appeared. "Is he alright?"

John nodded. "Yes, definitely", he reassured dryly. "He may stay that way for hours. So, tea?"

And tea they had.

John couldn't keep himself from staring at the stranger, just a little bit, while the man took a long sip of his drink. In the end he couldn't control his tongue any longer. "So… You're here to help my kind. Why?" he demanded again. The lines on his forehead deepened while the trail of thought swooshed on. "Who are you?" 'What are you?' might've been a more appropriate choice of words but he preferred not resulting to that.

The Doctor looked at him for a moment, obviously considering before making up his mind. "I'm… someone who's spent a long time traveling. As to why I want to help your kind…" The man shrugged. "I'd hate to see such a magnificent species go. I've already seen entirely too many disappear."

It took a while before John felt coherent enough to attempt speaking. Before he even found his voice. "What kind of a doctor are you, anyway?"

The alien shrugged. "The doctor of time." And that, apparently, was all the explanation he was going to get.

John couldn't help it anymore. Maybe it was the shock over his secret being revealed, over his kind being in danger. Or maybe it was all the adrenaline. But all of a sudden he was giggling, quite loudly.

The Doctor gave him a strange look.

John shook his head, mostly futilely trying to regain control over himself. "I just… I could've never imagined that a day would come when Sherlock can be considered the all in all most normal person in the room."

They focused on drinking tea for a while. Then, finally, John managed to find enough breath and courage for the question spinning around his head. "Do you really think that you can help my kind? That you can save us from extinction?"

The Doctor studied him. Then resulted to the only honest answer. "Yes, I hope so."

They both shuddered a bit when without a warning Sherlock jumped up from the couch with the agility of a tiger. There was steel hard determination in the detective's eyes. "Lestrade's coming", the man announced sharply.

The Doctor gave him a curious look when the dark haired man stormed past. "Are you sure that he's human?"

John groaned. "That's what I ask myself every day", he sighed. With that they followed the detective.

The two of them made it within hearing range from Sherlock and Greg just in time to hear the DI's murmured words. "… been another attack."

John winced, stepping into view. "Bloody hell…!" he sighed. "Who was it?"

Greg's eyes were full of sorrow and apology. It was more than enough to give the necessary warning before the verbal blow fell. "John, I… I'm so sorry. But Harry… She's gone."

For a few moments John simply stood there, staring. Trying to will his brain into accepting the impossible truth. Trying to convince himself that it wasn't just another sick nightmare.

Harry… Harry couldn't be gone.

Not now, not ever, not really.

Not when the last time she tried to call him he didn't even pick up.

"John?"

Someone was calling out his name. He probably should've answered it but he couldn't. All he could do, just barely, was breathe.

"John, you're going into…"

John needed to get away. So he pushed himself to motion and began to march towards his room, ignoring the fact that there was still a voice calling out to him. As soon as he made it there he slammed the door as loudly as he possibly could.

It still wasn't louder than the screaming in his head that wouldn't stop.

* * *

><p>For some reason that he couldn't quite understand Sherlock found it incredibly hard not to go after John. But in the end he did what came naturally to him and used cold logic. John hadn't stormed out and at the moment the only threat to the former soldier was John himself. He was also almost certain that company was the last thing the blogger wanted at the moment. Besides, there was something else he needed to do.<p>

Because his darkest deductions had just been confirmed.

"They're after his family now", he mused out loud. Knowing better than well that he wasn't wrong. "It's only a matter of time before they'll find him." If they were able to catch up with Harry, who kept jumping from one place to another like a restless wild animal, locating John wouldn't be much of a challenge. Especially when the man was more or less a public figure.

The Doctor nodded, a very solemn expression on his face.

It was quiet until they heard Greg's shaky exhale. "Christ…! This is really happening…"

Sherlock ignored the DI. His eyes were pure, hard steel when he focused on the Doctor once more. Then he saw something that made his eyebrows furrow. "I've missed something. You claim that you came here to help John and his kind yet you seem guilty." He took a purposefully threatening step closer. "What are you hiding from me?"

The Doctor sighed heavily. "Yes, I came to help his kind. And I will." For a microsecond a hint of pain was visible in those impossibly old eyes. "But you need to understand that some things are inevitable."

* * *

><p>TBC<p>

* * *

><p>AN: Well, that ended on a bit chilling note… So what, exactly, is inevitable? Will the enemy-species be stopped? And will Donna ever find her way back to the Doctor?

Sooooo… Was that any good at all? PLEASE, do let me know! I'd really love to hear from you.

Until nex time, folks! I really hope that you'll all join in then.

Take care!


	4. A Little Bit of Feminine Touch

A/N: It's Friiiiiday, which means that it's update time! But, first things first…

THANK YOU, so very much, for all your reviews and support for this fic! It really means a lot, especially since my 'Who'-fic typing is only just in the beginning. (HUGS)

Awkay, because I have a feeling that you didn't come here to read my a/n babblings… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

><p>A Little Bit of Feminine Touch<p>

* * *

><p>In the safety of his room, where no one except for the cameras Mycroft Holmes may or may not have installed could see him, John finally gave himself the permission to break down. Just a little bit. For a few moments.<p>

Harry… Harry was dead. Never coming back. And no matter how many times and how bitterly they'd fought… No matter how many times she'd broken his heart…

He shoved his fist into his mouth hard, using it along with all his willpower to keep a scream from breaking free while he squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

* * *

><p> _"Harry", he whispered once. When he was only five-years-old and suffering from a alarmingly high fever. "Stay?"_

_Harry sighed. Her hand was comforting while it stroked his sweat covered hair. "Sorry, Johnny. I have to go to bed. But I'll come back in the morning."_

_John blinked blearily, his stomach dropping just a little. He was almost asleep again. "Promise?" he murmured._

_Harry grinned. It was so bright and comforting that no being in the universe would've dared to question its power. "I promise. It's what sisters do."_ /

* * *

><p>John's eyes opened, so quickly that in a bit more coherent state of mind it might've startled him. He gritted his teeth and inhaled a sharp breath. Blissfully unaware of the streaks of tears on his cheeks and of the pitiable trembling that'd taken over all his body. And right there he did what he'd grown accustomed to doing all his life.<p>

He forced himself back up again and carried on solely with the power of his determination.

* * *

><p>Downstairs the remaining group did their best to keep themselves focused on something productive. At the moment it wasn't John – a, apparently very much <em>not<em> human John – who was in his room, grieving the loss of his only living family member. At the moment the most productive, the most useful, thing to do was to try and find a way, any way, to keep John's entire remaining species alive. To keep John _and_ his unborn daughter alive.

Or at least that was what they tried to tell themselves.

"These…" Greg frowned, desperately trying to find the correct word. "… creatures…"

"_Danshées_", Sherlock and the Doctor corrected simultaneously and clearly instinctively, one almost offended and the other audibly irritated.

Greg looked at the two dryly. Lovely. A stereo Sherlock was exactly what his headache needed to be soothed. "Yes, _Danshées_. Sorry." He really wasn't. "Tell me, so that even I understand… What the hell are they?"

"A very old introduced species. I've found some marks of them, a long time ago, from a entirely different planet. No one knows how or why they ended up on Earth. They're not exactly the kind of a species that likes to answer questions." The Doctor gave the DI a sharp, almost demanding look. "Can I see the crime scene photos again?"

Greg was well aware that he was most likely insane to allow the man to lay a hand on highly classified evidence. But he was desperate, stuck, fed up and in a desperate need to bring an end to whatever this was as fast as possible. So he did as he'd been asked to. "So… Shapeshifting aliens. Alright." Which, of course, it wasn't. "Why are they killing residents of London?"

The Doctor frowned. "That's what I'm wondering", the alien admitted. "They have the same instincts as wolves. They are ruthless if necessary and extremely territorial but they shouldn't be openly looking for confrontations like this, unprovoked. These kills…" The man shivered upon remembering the crime scene photos. "They're too brutal and calculative to be merely the result of territorial disputes. We need to find out what's causing this behavior to bring an end to it."

Sherlock, who'd been worryingly quiet since John withdrew, gritted his teeth loudly. There was something chilling in the detective's eyes. "We may not have time for that", the tall Brit pointed out sharply. The rest of the thought wasn't voiced but it hung heavily in the air.

Instantly the Doctor's whole posture straightened and the genius' eyes clashed heatedly. "This is a entire species you're talking about! Yes, they're a threat, I regret to admit that. But we will _not_ simply destroy them. We have no right to make such a decision."

Greg gulped hard, feeling a sudden need to interfere. "Okay, let's calm down. Surely that wasn't what Sherlock meant."

Sherlock's jawline tightened and the man's eyes darkened still but no words were offered and the silence that followed was heavier than lead.

"So…", Greg breathed out at last. "What's the next move?" He didn't like taking orders but if he was perfectly honest with himself in this case he didn't have the slightest clue how to proceed. And it infuriated him.

"While _Danshées_ aren't as shy to show their appearance as John's species they still don't enjoy doing so in front of those they don't trust. And having a chat with them… may not turn out strictly pleasant", the Doctor mused out loud. "But if we want to get to the root of this we need to find one of them."

Sherlock nodded slowly. It was easy to see the wheels turning. "I have contacts that may be able to help." Already as he spoke the detective was sending a text, without a doubt activating his own miniature army.

The Doctor appeared curious but refrained from asking.

That was when they heard the sound of a door opening. Three heads turned just in time to see John appearing. The former army medic seemed to be in control over himself but just barely. The steel in his eyes was almost enough to mask the recently shed tears.

Surprisingly it was Sherlock who reacted first. The detective's gaze scanned the smaller man from head to toe. "Feeling better?"

John nodded absentmindedly. Then took a deep breath before focusing on Greg. "You need someone to officially identify Harry's body, don't you? Let's go and get that done."

Greg shifted with discomfort. "John, she… She's not exactly in the… best condition. The coroner is still processing her. I don't think that it's a good idea…"

If anything John's eyes hardened, effectively halting the sentence. "Just… trust me. Whatever… Whatever will be waiting…" The former soldier cleared his throat and blinked quickly. "It can't be worse than what I've already imagined."

Greg frowned. He most definitely wasn't a fan of the idea but he knew that there was nothing he could do to stop the former soldier at the moment. "Fine."

"I'm coming along", Sherlock announced immediately. Greg was quite proud of himself for catching the faint crack on the mask of indifference. "There's some research that I need to do."

Greg barely managed to suppress the burst of laughter. _Yeah, sure you do…_ "Alright, let's get going, then." He gave the Doctor a sharp look. To be honest he was glad that he'd have to leave only one madman to 221B. The poor apartment could only contain one unsupervised genius at a time. "You… Don't touch anything. Don't do anything. And don't even think about leaving."

* * *

><p>Yes, John had seen his share of bodies. Yes, he'd been mentally preparing himself for something absolutely horrible. But this was sister, his Harry. His first comrade. Despite all the times he'd cursed her in his head and out loud.<p>

Molly gave him a long, uncertain look and fidgeted. "I, uh… Greg probably told you that I haven't… processed her, yet. But her face… There shouldn't be too much damage, so…"

John nodded, his heart aching and racing in his chest. Molly was his friend but at the moment he had no patience left. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't tear his gaze away from the body that'd been covered by a white sheet. "Just… Just show me."

The white sheet was pulled away, just enough to show her face and a little bit of the upper body. In that very moment John's whole world spun. His knees were dangerously close to giving out underneath him. It was like the bottom had dropped from his world.

He'd been expecting something horrifying, certainly. But the sight before him… It was nothing like that. It wasn't gory. And he honestly didn't know if it made things easier or a thousand times harder.

The person before him was, without a doubt, Harriet Watson. The years of hard, alcohol induced life had left their marks on her but she was still stunningly beautiful. Small and much too thin, visibly fragile as a porcelain doll. Deathly pale, sans the hint of blood covering her long, blonde hair that framed her angel's face perfectly. Apart from a hint of bruising around her neck that blood was the only hint of damage he could see. It was like she'd been sleeping. Or pulling her cruelest prank ever.

John didn't realize that he'd been holding his breath until a choked, strangled gasp left him. His eyes blurred while he reached out a unsteady hand to brush her cheek, and it took longer than it should've before he realized what was disturbing his line of vision. "Harry…"

He felt Molly shift beside him. Her hand twitched but in the end she didn't touch him. "It… It was quick, John. The hit to the head… It rendered her unconscious." The coroner's gaze flickered towards him before she went on in a quiet, more than a little hesitant voice. "She didn't feel… the rest."

John didn't ask what 'the rest' entailed. He didn't want to know. Didn't think he'd be able to bear listening.

For a few more moments he stared at his sister. At her still somehow innocent, lifeless face. And choked out the only words he could think of. "I'm sorry…!"

* * *

><p>Greg's guess that Sherlock had only one reason to accompany him and John became cemented when the taller man waited with him outside Molly's den, pacing furiously like a caged tiger and muttering constantly under his breath. Under any other circumstances the clear traces of how much the so-called psychopath cared would've been endearing. But at the moment Greg couldn't keep himself from casting impatient glances towards the door through which John disappeared with Molly what felt like decades earlier.<p>

For some reason his memories chose to drag him back to Sherlock's fall. He could still remember, very vividly, the man John was then. It was the only other time he'd seen the former army medic's eyes look the way they did today. And it scared him.

Sherlock emitted something that sounded like a groan. The man glared at the door that separated them from John. "What's taking them so long?"

At the moment Greg didn't have the energy to feel the anger he should've. "What he's doing there… It isn't easy, Sherlock. Give him time."

"We don't have time!" Sherlock objected heatedly.

Right there Greg looked, really looked, at Sherlock. Finally seeing. It wasn't all that long ago Sherlock died for two years to save John's life. He knew, for a fact, that there was terrifyingly little the detective wouldn't have been willing to do for his blogger. And now… Now there was nothing Sherlock could do. Just then Molly's door opened, halting whatever Greg had been about to say. They turned simultaneously, postures stiff and trying to prepare themselves for anything. Instead of John, however, out came only Molly. There was a torn look on her face.

Sherlock frowned. "Where's John?"

Molly cleared her throat and wiped her eyes although there was no visible moisture. "In the toilet." She sighed. "It was Harry."

Greg muttered a half audible curse, rubbing his face roughly with one hand. Of course it'd been a almost sure thing, but… Somehow he'd still been hoping that this would be a loss that John wouldn't have to endure.

Greg sighed, his shoulders slumping a little. "So… Now what?"

As though to answer his question at that very moment Sherlock cell phone bleeped, announcing a new text. The detective's eyebrow bounced up. "That was quick." The expression changed to something suspiciously close to worry when the man read the message.

"Sherlock?" Greg demanded firmly. His stomach had already knotted with dread. "What is it?"

Sherlock responded him with showing the text, which turned out to be from Mary Watson.

'_It should be easy to do, since one of them is already here with me. Had been keeping an eye on me. I'll deliver her to Baker Street._'

"We have to go, _now_."

* * *

><p>What the Doctor neglected to tell his new… comrades was that he'd invited company. But then again, he was never told that he wasn't allowed to let someone in. So when there was a nearly frantic knock on 221B's door he rushed to open without a hint of hesitation.<p>

In a flash his arms were full of Donna Noble. "You infuriating little…!" She took a deep breath, giving him a evaluating look. "Are you alright? Why did it take you ages to finally call me?"

"I… was a bit busy." He found it the safest not to mention that he'd been interrogated by the police. "But I'm fine." Well, he did have some bumps and bruises but he'd dealt with a lot worse. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Donna looked at him like he'd said something incredibly stupid. "Because you just took a trip to the morgue, Spaceman." She couldn't quite hide her wince.

It was the Doctor's turn to worry. "And you? Are you alright?"

She nodded sharply. "I've got a mighty headache but that's all. Right now I'm a tad bit more about those werewolves you mentioned."

The Doctor told her everything that'd been discovered so far, all the annoyingly little he knew. Well, _almost_ everything. Because there was this one little thing…

… that she, of course, caught a hint of instantly. "Doctor." There was some well justified suspicion on Donna's face. "There's something you're not not telling me. Spill."

He gritted his teeth. "This isn't something that you want to know. Trust me." He most definitely wasn't overjoyed that he knew this particular detail.

Donna's eyes narrowed. Gained _the look_ that he knew entirely too well. "Tell me, right now. Or I'll tell Sherlock and John that you're hiding something." She then blinked twice, quickly. "We are going to help them, aren't we?"

The Doctor sighed. There was no way around it anymore. "We _are_ going to help John's species. But… We won't be able to save everyone." Knowing that she wouldn't be satisfied without a more throughout explanation he went on, every word tasting horribly bitter on his tongue. "When I traveled to London once, to a period of time not far from here… I saw an obituary on a paper. And… I just met that man today." He looked at her, directly into eyes, to make sure that she understood the full gravity of the situation. "I looked at him, listened to him and talked to him, Donna. Knowing that very, very soon he'll die. And that there's nothing I can do to stop it."

Donna's eyes widened. Flames of desperate rage lit up in their depths. "But… You're a Time Lord! There's gotta be something…!"

"We're not gods, Donna!" He then sighed, trying to control his tone when he spoke again. "We can travel through time, yes. But… We can't interfere on certain things. We'd cause a rift and who knows how much further destruction. So…" He gritted his teeth, hard. "I… I'm sorry. But we can't. Some things… They're inevitable."

Donna buried her face into her hands. It took a bit too long before she spoke. "Which one of them is it?" she asked in the end, her voice quieter than it should've been.

The Doctor swallowed. The horrid taste from before hadn't gone anywhere. "Believe me, you're much happier not knowing." He knew that he would've been.

They were both on the edge. That's why they shivered when there was a unexpected, harsh knock on the door. They exchanged questioning glances before the Doctor moved to open.

Stood behind the door was a woman with shortcut blonde hair and a couple of bruises on her face. She had a gun pressed against the head of someone he couldn't see yet. "Are you the Doctor?" she demanded sharply, a dangerous flame taking over her eyes.

The Doctor nodded slowly while fighting the urge to take a step backwards. He was genuinely worried that she might turn the gun on him. "Yes", he admitted lenghtily. "And you are…?"

The woman's eyes calmed slightly but not enough to allow him to relax. "I'm Mary Watson. I told Sherlock that I'd… bring something over and he said that you'd be here."

The Doctor's eyebrow bounced up. Somehow curiosity managed to outweight the reasonable concern over the still entirely too present firearm. "Something?" he repeated.

Mary nodded. "You needed a _Danshée_." She yanked at her mystery companion, the gun not faltering for even a second. "Here's one."

The stranger was revealed and for once in his life the Doctor was speechles for a few moments. His eyes widened. At the moment he was very eager not to process the other reactions of his mind and body. "Irene Adler…?"

Despite the weapon still trained at her the woman grinned. It was the cheeky one he remembered all too well. "Hello again, Doctor."

* * *

><p>TBC<p>

* * *

><p>AN: NOW it's a party! (chuckles) But oh no, otherwise things sound a bit bleak right about now… We'll see how this mad ride continues.

Soooo… Thoughts? Questions? Comments? Rants? Please, do leave a note down below if you do!

Until next time, folks! I really hope that I'll see ya all there.

Take care!


	5. The Value of Life

A/N: It's Friday, which means that it's time to update. Hooray?

First, though… Thank you so much for all the reviews and love you've given this story! They really mean the world to me, you know? (HUGS)

Awkay, because I have a feeling that you'd like to go on with the story… Allons-y! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

><p>The Value of Life<p>

* * *

><p>When John finally emerged from the bathroom, then from the morgue and joined Sherlock and Greg his eyes ached and his chest felt painfully tight. He took a deep breath, stealing a one more moment just for himself, then made his presence known. It was ridiculous how weak his legs were all of a sudden.<p>

Sherlock's intense gaze scanned him all the way through, asking a lot more than any words could've. Greg gave him a worried glance. "Ready, now?" Thankfully the DI knew better than to ask if he was alright.

John nodded, not trusting his voice yet.

"Before we go back to Baker Street… We have visitors." Sherlock's eyes seemed darker than usual. "Mary caught us a _Danshée_."

The shock and terror were almost enough to bring John to his knees. At least it made him find his voice again. "What?! Is she…?"

"Yes, she's fine", Sherlock interrupted impatiently. Was that guilt? "But there's something you both should know…"

* * *

><p>Donna Noble had been traveling with the Doctor for a while, now. She'd seen new planets, so many different alien races that she'd lost track, had the best and worst times of her life. She'd already assumed that it'd take quite a bit to surprise her these days.<p>

And then she met Irene Adler.

The Woman, who had long hair that'd been dyed to a color that lingered somewhere between rich red and black, didn't seem to even notice that there was still a gun trained on her. Her posture was perfectly relaxed while she moved one of her long legs elegantly on top of the other. "So, Doctor… It's been a while", she murmured in a velvet smooth tone, eyeing on the Time Lord from underneath long lashes. Her gaze then flickered towards Donna. "I see that you've finally found yourself a new companion to play with."

Donna's left eyebrow twitched hazardously. If she hadn't been suffering from a splitting headache she would've without a doubt snarled. "Oi! I don't know what sort of games the two of you have been… _playing_", she growled. "But he's definitely not touching me. Ever."

Irene smirked. "Ah, a feisty one." What was _that _look all about? "I like her."

Mary, who'd been observing the exchange thus far with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance seemed to decide that she'd had enough. "Alright, as entertaining as this is… If you try to distract us again let me remind you that I have a roll of ducktape with me. Trust me, it definitely doesn't feel pleasant on your lips."

Irene's eyebrow arched with interest but she did keep mouth shut.

Satisfied to have the attention of those eyes off her Donna turned her gaze towards the Doctor. "Did you know about this?" she demanded. "That she's… one of them?"

The Doctor nodded, his expression infuriatingly unreadable. "I did. But to be honest… I thought that she was killed a long time ago."

Irene shrugged. "I rescued myself. The second time I was saved in Karachi by a black knight. Quite clichéd, really." She tilted her head, looking at the time traveler. "He reminds me a bit of you. So brilliant and dark, so very alone in that busy mind. Such black stars, you two." Her eyes twinkled a bit. "Such special boys. He's the only one that has ever tricked me. You were the first one who out of all the roles I've played preferred the original _Danshée_ one."

Was the Doctor blushing?

Donna felt a unpleasant shudder go through her. Her eyes had to hold some of the disbelief she was experiencing while she stared at the Doctor. "Did you two…?!" Like she would've actually wanted to know…!

Irene smirked far from coyly, her eyes not straying from him. "Doctor Boy Scout here is far too noble for such. But a girl can dream."

The Doctor cleared his throat. He was, however, saved from any further humiliation by the sound of a door opening. In rushed three men Donna couldn't remember seeing before, grim looks on their faces. The sandy haired one of them had suspiciously red, puffy eyes and although she'd never met him she felt a instinctive need to offer a word of comfort. She held her tongue, though.

Which didn't save her from all attention being locked on her. "Who are you?" the tallest of them demanded. His face remained unreadable but there was something dangerous in his eyes.

"She's Donna, my companion", the Doctor answered, seemingly oblivious to the threat in the air. "She crashed into this particular time and place with me. She's human, just like you."

His explanation didn't diffuse the tension entirely but eased it enough to make it bearable. There was a round of hasty introductions, during which Mary and the man named John exchanged a fond smile, her gun never faltering from Irene. The simple, effortless gesture of affection brought Donna both a hint of warmth and envy.

And then Irene was the centre of attention again. The _Danshée_ didn't seem to mind. "Well hello, stranger", she greeted Sherlock. She then glanced towards John and Mary. "Congratulations."

John didn't seem impressed in the slightest. Whatever traces of recently shed tears there'd been were long gone. "You have knack of not staying dead, don't you?"

Irene laughed and shrugged. "What can I say? Being dead is boring."

Sherlock took what looked like a protective step closer towards the smaller man. Along with quite a bit of other secrets that Donna couldn't read she was able to distinguish intrique and anger on his face. "Why were you keeping an eye on John's wife?"

"I was trying to make sure that what's left of my former pack won't attack her", Irene replied smoothly. Her eyes slid towards Mary's gun. "Now, I'd feel much more comfortable having this conversation without a firearm pointed at me."

Greg scoffed. "What, and we'd give you a chance to attack us or escape? No."

"Maybe we can arrange a compromise that'll satisfy everyone involved." Without a word Mary pulled a pair of handcuffs from the covers of her clothing. "These should do", she murmured. It was almost disturbing how much skill and experience she showed while fastening their unwilling visitor.

The Doctor simply looked on, one eyebrow arched. Greg's eyes widened to a point where it was a miracle they remained on their rightful spots. Sherlock cleared his throat, a degree of curiosity in his eyes. John's cheeks gained a mighty bit of color while he fidgeted.

Irene chuckled. "Oh, come on now, boys. Surely you've seen a bit of games between girls before?" she teased. Her tone was nothing short of purring.

Donna rolled her eyes. All of a sudden she remembered very clearly why there were so few men in her life. "Oh, for the love of…! Try not to act like a group of schoolboys for a moment, why don't you?"

Mary seemed to stiffle a laughter. The men shifted, embarrassed, until the Doctor spoke. "People are dying." Well, when he said people… "You're here because we're trying to understand what's going on."

Irene shrugged. "It's a long story", she warned them. "But then again, I'm the one of us who has all the time in the world. The dead have no rush, unless they're Sherlock Holmes."

* * *

><p>After the supposed death of Sherlock Holmes Kitty Riley was on the top of her career. The hero reporter who exposed the true face of the detective. And then the truth became revealed, sending her whole life crumbling. The fall didn't stop to her being demoted and him walzing back to life.<p>

It was the death of her career and very life, she mused while once again sitting in a pub. Hoping against all reason that the sharp drink in front of her would be the solution to her misery. She almost downed it until she heard a disheveled and reeking, seemingly homeless man babbling about werewolves. He wouldn't have believed it himself if he hadn't seen them attacking Harriet Watson.

Kitty's eyes flashed, right there, because suddenly she knew exactly how to resurrect herself.

"Why don't you let me buy you a drink so we can talk?" she suggested.

* * *

><p>"As the good Doctor here knows, I've come a long way from home." For the first time Irene showed actual emotion. Even though it disappeared as fast as it appeared. "The previous time we met my planet was dying. My entire race was doomed. He tried to help us, but… Well, there's no messing with the grand plan of the universe."<p>

The Doctor's eyes darkened. "You know why I couldn't do more." Did _he_ still remember why?

"Yes, you told me. Yet you stayed for five days. Fought for us." Irene tilted her head, just a little. "You were still trying to figure out how to help, weren't you? You were still trying to find some way. Any way."

The Doctor nodded solemnly, looking away.

"I followed you on your last night there. When you went to see the planet's dying core." Irene mused quietly for a moment. The memory seemed to hurt. No wonder. "When I saw your eyes I knew, even without asking. The ground began to shake and grumble less than an hour after your departure. A little less than two hundred of us managed to escape." The number of all lives lost was never mentioned.

"That's how you ended up on Earth", John mused out loud.

Irene nodded. "It was a mere coincidence. This was the first habitable planet we spotted. We were hungry and desperate, running out of fuel." Her nose wrinkled and again what looked a lot like emotion appeared to her eyes. "The first humans we met… They were hostile." Her gaze swept towards John. "And your kind were helping them. We lost many more lives during those first few weeks. Those of us who survived came out stronger."

Greg's eyebrow twitched. There was some sadness for her kind in his gaze but for the time being anger outweighed it. "You mean more bloodthirsty?"

"My kind never settled in very well. We're too ferocious, too highly led by our instincts. Some of us are trying, though, using whatever methods they can to stiffle their most violent outbursts. Many still want revenge on a kindered species that betrayed us. And on humans. A lot of us have ended up into jails." Irene's eyes flashed. "And then… There were quite many like me who chose to join James Moriarty's pack."

John fell deathly pale. Mary shivered slightly. Greg gasped. Sherlock's jawline tightened to an extend that had to hurt.

"Who's James Moriarty?" Donna demanded.

"He was one of the most dangerous monsters that have ever roamed around this universe", Sherlock growled. Sounding very much not human for a long moment. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "I should've known that he couldn't be human."

The thought was overwhelming for Sherlock, really. While he'd been on his two-year exile, traveling all around the world, he hadn't been dismantling only Moriarty's web. He'd been dismantling a species.

The Doctor took a deep breath. There was a great deal of steel hard determination on his face. "Alright, then. We know what we're up against." He nodded to himself and began to pace around. "No we need to figure out a way to stop them."

"Haven't you realized it already?" Irene's face couldn't be read. "I'm truly sorry." And she really seemed to be. "But there's still a group of around twenty of Moriarty's loyal _Danshées_. And there's only one way to stop them." Her tone left very little to be questioned.

A frosty, sombre silence filled the room while realization dawned.

"So… Which one do you choose?" Irene's eyes darted towards them all, finally pausing on the Doctor. "Do you destroy almost all there's left of a species? Or let them keep killing the members of another, peaceful race as a punishment for the sins of their ancestors?"

* * *

><p>Time passed by unbearably slowly while the small group tried to reach a horribly cruel decision. While they attempted to figure out how much the lives of those <em>Danshées<em> weighed in comparison to those that might end up being lost because of them. While they had to play the role of possibly choosing the fate of a species.

And it wasn't all that weighed Donna's mind.

She couldn't help casting glimpses towards the men who'd gathered into the kitchen with Mary. Towards Greg, who was rubbing his face exhaustedly with one hand. Towards Sherlock, who was trying so very desperately to appear nonchalant although the very air around him was screaming anguish. Towards John, who was painfully tense yet visibly more than ready to fight for everything he held dear. One of his hands kept brushing Mary's mightily swollen abdomen affectionately. The sight of the trio brought a lump to Donna's throat.

They were good people, all of them. Soon one of them would be dead. And there was nothing she could do about it.

All of a sudden she understood perfectly why the Doctor hadn't wanted to give her the name, because if she'd known…

"Are you alright?" The Doctor's voice startled her out of her thoughts. His face was the picture of grief, helpless rage and years older than mere hours before.

Donna nodded slowly. "Yeah, of course." She then nudged at him gently. "You?"

"Yes, of course."

On the spur of the moment she took his hand. Only for one, prolonged moment but still. Somehow it seemed that they both needed it.

They were maddeningly stuck, really. If they didn't stop the _Danshées_ a lot more of John's kind would die. If they did those _Danshées_ would lose their lives. Arresting wouldn't work. They'd only take their natural forms and cause a bloodbath. Which left them with only unthinkable options to consider.

It took longer than it should've before she was able to speak again. "Doctor… Whatever decision we reach today… It's going to be the right thing."

"We're dooming real, living beings to death, Donna!" The Doctor's voice was relatively quiet but full of storm. So were his eyes. "There's no right thing to do in this."

She had to agree.

* * *

><p>John felt sick to his stomach while he stood in the kitchen, drawing comfort from the presence of the most important people in his life and his unborn child. Having to make decisions like this… It just wasn't fair. What right did he have to…?<p>

Back in Afganistan he was forced to stare at all the bodies gathering around him – some of which lives he claimed personally – and decided that never again. Since then he'd followed Sherlock to the war in London and shot a cabbie to save the mad detective's life. And now there was a new battle ahead of him.

A lot of people had already died. Including his sister. And now the threat lay on both him and his family. He couldn't just stand idle.

It was time that the doctor became a soldier once more.

He wasn't entirely sure why his gaze chose to stray towards the Doctor right there. The alien looked back at him, deep and profound understanding in those impossibly old, pained eyes. It seemed that they were both facing the same mental war.

"John?" Sherlock's voice caught his attention. Anyone who didn't know the man as he did would've claimed that the expression he met was impassive. "What do you want us to do?"

Honestly, John wanted to go back in time to the moment of bliss before they found that body by Thames. But that option didn't exist. And so he looked towards Greg, the apology that was screaming in his head reaching his eyes. "You… should stay here, keep an eye on Irene." He cut the oncoming protest short. "What we're about to do… It isn't strictly speaking legal. The less you know about it the better."

It was obvious that Greg hated the idea. But there was very little the DI could do. And so, barely able to contain tears, the man folded all three of them into a huge hug, one at a time. The hold that crushed around John was unnecessarily tight. "Come back, you hear?" Greg blinked rapidly and the moisture that'd been building up into his eyes disappeared. "All of you."

John nodded stiffly, already knowing that it might be a promise he would not be able to keep.

He didn't want Sherlock to come along and risk his life. And he definitely didn't want his pregnant wife to join them. But he also knew that no matter what he did or said they'd follow him, anyway. Entirely too similar, those two.

And so the three of them joined the Doctor. The alien looked at them with a tense expression, the fake smile that lingered on his face when they first met completely gone. "So… What did you decide?"

"Irene told us where to find them. So let's go", Sherlock ordered. There was steel hard concentration in his eyes while he stormed towards the flat's door.

With their their group of five went in a solemn silence, grim looks on their faces. They all knew what they'd have to do. None of them liked it. The sick feeling in the pit of John's stomach didn't ease for even a second.

While they clambered to a cab John used the moment of distraction to send a text message.

'_It's time, and I'll need your help._'

* * *

><p>Back inside Greg took a deep breath, surprised by how much it hurt. He balled his fists upon realizing how badly his hands shook. His heart was hammering and breaking in his chest.<p>

He'd already lost Sherlock once, and now…

"How likely is it that they'll come back alive?" he demanded, worry and downright panic sharpening his tone. There was no answer. Ice cold dread filled him while he turned as quickly as he could.

Only to discover that Irene was missing.

* * *

><p>TBC<p>

* * *

><p>AN: Soooo… What's going to happen next? How will our group handle this delicate situation? Is someone really going to die?

Comments? Thoughts? You know where to leave a note. (grins)

I REALLY need to get going now. Until next time! I really hope that you'll all join in then.

Take care!


	6. For the Past and Future

A/N: It's Friday, ya all! Which means that it's time to update me. We'll see where this mad ride will take us next…

First, though… THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart for all your reviews and support! They really do mean a lot, ya know? (HUGS)

Awkay, because I've got a feeling that you want to go on with the story… Let's rock! I really hope that you'll have a good time with this one.

* * *

><p>For the Past and Future<p>

* * *

><p>The silence in the car speeding towards the remaining <em>Dansheés<em>'base was nearly deafening. All the passengers were quiet and deep in thought, wondering just what they were headed towards. How it'd all end.

At some point the Doctor and Donna exchanged dark, pained looks, both of them knowing one detail more than they would've wanted to.

In the end they reached a school that'd been abandoned almost a year earlier. For some reason no one had bothered to transform it into anything new. Well, almost no one. They all saw security cameras. Several of them. Along with bars covering some windows.

It wasn't a school anymore, it was a fortress.

"So…", Donna breathed out. She seemed a little pale. "Any ideas?"

Both the Doctor and Sherlock opened their mouths but it was Mary who spoke. The look in her eyes was definitely that of an assassin. "We need to split up. Otherwise it's going to take too long to go through a building of that size. Sherlock, you're coming with me." Seeing the look in John's eyes she was quick to cut off the oncoming objection. "You'd want to come with me, I know. But right now I don't need a over-protective husband hovering around me. I need you to be a soldier. Understood, captain Watson?"

Despite the circumstances John smirked. "Yes, ma'am." And suddenly the rest of them felt like they'd been witnessing something unpleasantly private.

Just before they parted ways John and Sherlock shared a long, meaningful look. One that clearly said '_Don't you _dare_ do anything stupid_'. Mary, on the other hand, marched determinedly to John and sealed him into a long, searing kiss. The words she whispered upon leaning to his ear were meant for just the two of them. "Come back… or I'll name our daughter Hamish."

John emitted a quick, breathless chuckle.

Parting ways was far from painless. But in the end the Doctor, Donna and John were making their way towards the east entrance. Carefully avoiding all cameras and keeping an eye out on possible traps they sneaked in, taking a look around in the surprisingly shadowy, long hallway.

That was when they heard the sobs. Those of children. They exchanged looks and began to approach without a hint of hesitation. The classroom's door from behind which the noise came was locked but no challenge for the Sonic. They opened the door, and froze.

There, huddled together tightly, were children who couldn't be older than five or six. Nine of them, most likely _Dansheés_. They all appeared exhausted and terrified. There wasn't a single dry eye amongst them.

"Oh my…!" Donna breathed out, then stepped forward. Her feet didn't appear entirely steady. "It's… It's alright", she reassured the children. "We're not going to hurt you, we're here to help. I promise."

One of the children, a tiny redhead with the bluest eyes they'd ever seen, gulped. Then, finally, spoke up. "Are you… Are the new teachers?" Her speech was far from perfect but they understood, loud and clear. "Nia got missin'." They preferred not to guess what happened to the teacher.

Donna nodded shakily. "Yes, sweetie. We're… the new teachers."

"Get the children out of here", the Doctor whispered to Donna, so that only the two other adults heard. "It's… They don't need to see what's going to happen next. Make sure that they're safe."

Donna seemed fully ready to argue and she quite clearly wasn't pleased with his plan. But she was also forced to admit that the little ones had to be protected. Her eyes narrowed. "You'd better be careful, you hear? Both of you."

The Doctor tried to grin. He wasn't sure how convincing it was. "I wouldn't want to face your wrath, would I?"

Donna's tiny grin had no humor to it. Her facial muscles were too tight. "Maybe you are a genius, after all."

The men watched as Donna ushered the hesitant, terrified children out of the building. All the way she was trying to convince them that everything was going to be alright and that they'd be reunited with their parents soon. After their departure it became entirely too quiet.

"Will they be safe?" John half-whispered in the end.

The Doctor nodded. There wasn't a shadow of a doubt in his mind. "I've seen what that woman is capable of", he stated fondly. "Those children are most definitely going to be safe."

* * *

><p>As they went through the massive building, their steps soundless and their eyes darting around to spot any threat, both John and the Doctor knew that staying quiet was quite essential. There was a pack of furious, wolf like aliens lurking nearby, after all. But it seemed that the time traveler wasn't very good at keeping his tongue in check.<p>

"I'm sorry, about your sister."

John shivered and his jawline tightened. The relationship between him and Harry… was complicated, to say the least. He didn't feel comfortable with unfolding it to someone he just met. So he nodded curtly. Then, unexpectedly, unleashed a tiny, bitter chuckle. "I… used to fear that she'd drink herself to death one day. I never thought…" He shut his mouth painfully quickly, swallowing down the foul words.

Some quiet moments passed by before the Doctor spoke again. The alien's voice was a touch more tense than before. "When we find the _Dansheés_… What are you going to do?"

"Whatever I have to", John replied without a beat of hesitation. A jolt of something painfully sharp went through him. "I'm… I'm a husband. And in a few weeks I'll be a father." His eyes hardened. "I'm not… I can't let them harm my family. I won't." He took a deep breath. "It's my job to protect them. So I will." He didn't like it, not one bit. It was against his very nature. But from the moment he proposed to Mary he'd given himself the promise that he wouldn't let harm come her way. And he wasn't the kind of a man who took promises lightly.

After that the talking finally stopped. The quiet that fell was crushingly heavy, loaded with emotions that John couldn't quite grasp. "John… I've seen the outcome of this day, once", the Doctor whispered eventually. Sounding very frustrated, tired, old, angry and determined all at once. "I'm not sure if I can stop it, but… I need you to know that I tried."

John frowned. All of a sudden dread filled his whole body. "What… are you talking about?"

There was a brief moment of heavy silence before the Doctor answered. "I've allowed too many inevitable things to come to pass. Too many good people to die." The alien gritted his teeth, hard. "The universe owes me one."

John never got the chance to demand further explanations. Because in the very next second there was a small, metallic sound. And he felt a brush of alarm.

"I'm sorry, John."

Something hard collided with his head and all lights went out.

* * *

><p>Elsewhere in the building Sherlock and Mary froze, both of them feeling cold chills running down their skin. They exchanged a look, their faces unreadable and saying everything necessary at the same time. It was a mystery how they both knew but it hit them with absolute certainty.<p>

Something was wrong with John.

They didn't have a lot of time to dwell on that worry, though. Because a few moments later they came to a realization that they weren't alone anymore. Steps were heard and only a few moments later they were surrounded. It didn't take a genius IQ or an assassin's experience to realize that their companions were hostile.

"Put… down… the guns", a female voice commanded in a growl. There was no mistaking the strength behind that threat. "There are several firearms aimed at you. And believe me, we're not too shy to use them."

One… Two… Three… Sherlock counted six figures in the shadows. A couple of them had attempted to hide themselves quite successfully but not well enough. Not that knowing the number would've done a lot of good.

Sherlock measured up his options, all too soon coming to a conclusion that he didn't have but one. They were outgunned, outnumbered. The moment they'd make a move…

Mary stiffened beside him, clearly coming to the same sombre conclusion.

Sherlock's mind was rattling on at a impossible speed, trying to form a plan F, when all of a sudden it became clear that he wouldn't need one. He saw one _Dansheé_'s eyes widen and that was all the warning he got. In a flash a sharp series of six taps came while bullets flew through a gun's silencer, each of them sinking to a lethal spot. Some of the aliens stood frozen still for a moment, looks of dazed disbelief flashing on their faces. But in the end they were all down.

Sherlock turned around slowly, not fully believing that the threat was over yet, and wasn't quite able to keep a tiny trace of his surprise from showing.

Irene stood only steps away, slowly lowering a recently fired gun. There was a entirely too familiar smirk on her lips. "Did you really think that I'd let you have all the fun?"

* * *

><p>The Doctor wasn't proud of what he did but he also knew that he didn't really have a choice. And so he hid John's unconscious form carefully, making sure that the other man was as comfortable and safe as possible. After checking that John's breathing and pulse were even, and taking a close look around in case of any potential threats, he continued on his way. It was harder than it should've been to not look back.<p>

The Doctor counted that he'd been walking on for about five minutes until he sensed that he'd been granted his wish. He tensed up and froze, his two hearts jumping a little. He wasn't alone.

"Well, well, well… Look what the cat brought in", a male voice stated in a biting tone. "If it isn't the mighty Doctor? The last time I saw you was a little before my home planet was destroyed, taking most of my kind along."

That definitely hurt. The Doctor breathed through it, turning slowly to meet a group of five men. His attention focused on the one up front. In his mid-forties, tall and definitely attention catching with his elegant posture, dressed in a expensive looking suit. Shortcut, well groomed brown hair. A pair of piercing, grey eyes.

Those eyes were the last thing he saw before leaving the doomed planet of the _Dansheés_. Those eyes were pleading him to do something, _anything_, along with the heated words. While he knew full well that there was nothing he could do.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't help you back then." And he really was. He'd _felt_ the destruction of the planet, of all those at the time relatively innocent lives, although he'd been far away. Some failures were unacceptable. "But now… I'm trying to keep you from being destroyed again."

One of the taller man's eyebrows rose. "How about that. Are you offering to help us?" It sounded deeply venomous.

"Help you?" The Doctor gave a brief chuckle that was a mixture of disbelief, amusement and bitterness. "Help you, destroy another species? Help you dig your own grave?"

The man's eyebrow arched. A rebellious chin was lifted although a hint of fear could almost be smelled. "Digging our own grave?" A pair of dangerous eyes flashed. "You do realize that you're threatening us, don't you? And that, _Doctor_, was a very stupid thing to do."

The Doctor refused to let himself be intimitated. Stopping this… It was far too important. "The humans are already on to you. And you've all seen how they react to being threatened. They attack and destroy."

"So do we."

"You? A handful of a nearly extinct species against the dominant species of this planet?" Sadness gripped the Doctor's heart. "It's hopeless! They'll wipe you away!" Couldn't they see? This path… It'd only lead to death and destruction.

The _Dansheé_ arched an eyebrow. "Why, exactly, would you care? What does it matter to you what happens to us?"

The Doctor sighed heavily. "I've seen too many races disappearing, becoming destroyed entirely. Including my own." It was almost impossible to even voice, and borderline unbearable to remember, but if it'd save what little was left of a species he'd already let down once… "And… I'd much rather not see it happen, ever again."

This time a woman emerged from the shadows. She was very young, only somewhere around her mid-twenties, and beautiful. She had long blonde hair and large hazel eyes that had a flame of fury in them. Her expression didn't carry any less fury. "So you're telling us to just walk away?" Her Welsh accent was thick, deepened by the array of emotions. "After everything they've put us through… What they've put this entire, amazing planet through… We should just let it go and walk away? Let them get away with it? Humans and _Kial´ais_?"

It was the first time the Doctor heard the name of John's kind. But he couldn't let the surprise slow him down. Not with how much there was at stake. "Yes", he confirmed, as calmly and evenly as he could. "For the sake of you all. Especially your children." It wrenched his heart. But… He'd seen what humans were capable of if they were scared. The was no guarantee that they wouldn't do even the unthinkable.

Apparently he hadn't chosen the correct thing to say. Because if anything the woman's eyes became even more furious, even more dangerously determined. "For the sake of our children…", she hissed, as though every word burned her tongue. "For the sake of our children… I'll make sure that we'll never, _ever_ end up to the way were when…" Her eyes watered when pain came surging through but the fury didn't lessen at all. "Do you know when I would've needed you? When you would've been able to help me? It was when we lost our planet and ended up here, into this hell! Before those monsters got a hold of us!" She gritted her teeth painfully. "If I ever question whether we should do this or not… I have a map of scars all over my body to prove it! I have several lifetimes' worth of memories of watching everyone I cared about being buthered and worse!" A single tear rolled down her cheek and she was trembling, hard. "I… I was only seven, and I had to watch them kill my entire family!"

"Cadi…", the man who spoke to him first murmured in a warning tone, casting a very sharp look towards her.

She shook her head, none of the resolve fading. "How many times do I have to tell you? If you speak to me, use my _real_ name, not the one _they_ gave me!" she growled. She only managed to relax marginally. "You deserve to know why. So, here it is." Her nose wrinkled while a flood of memories surged on. "I… I thought that I'd die, too. I'm not sure if I would've even preferred it. But… Then the government caught a hold of what was happening. Shut down the entire place. Wiped it away, as though nothing ever happened. Tried to offer everyone… a fresh start, I suppose, to cleanse their own conscience. I was an orphan. All alone, homeless. So I was eventually given to a Welsh couple. I heard them complaining that they would've wanted a baby, but… A man in a suit spent two hours with them behind locked doors, and they took me to their house. They gave me a new life, a new name. A new… me."

Deep sorrow filled the Doctor. Finally, finally he began to understand. "They tried to erase your whole past, your whole identity, from your memories", he murdered sadly. It took a while before he managed to pry further. "You didn't settle in very well, did you?"

Cadi scoffed. "How well would you imagine that a traumatized _Dansheé_ would adjust with parents who enjoy watching cricket and theater, and who dislike strong displays of emotions? I was grieving my family, terrified that I'd end up back into _that_ place, still recovering from the torture. And… I barely undestood their language. I learned a bit of English from those who captured me, but…" She swallowed loudly. "I had no love or support, no family, no friends. Everyone at school looked at me like I was a monster, even the teachers. I hated every second of it. And when I was fourteen I finally ran away. That's when I met James Moriarty. He helped my find some purpose to my life."

The Doctor felt disgust swirling in the pit of his stomach. He shook his head. "Killing people isn't a purpose", he pointed out hotly.

Cadi sneered, her former smooth accent mixing with a sound that had to come from her original form. "Oh? And does your life have a any better purpose? I remember your stories, even though I was only a little girl back then." Her eyes darkened. "Floating around in your silly blue box for all eternity… The last of your kind, all alone although a lot of people try to travel with you… Waiting for the day when you finally run out of new faces…" Something unnamable could be seen on her angel's face. "At least I'm still fighting for what I believe in."

The Doctor felt his own resolve rising and gaining strength. His hand twitched barely visibly as it grabbed on a device. "So am I."

He moved faster than any of the aliens around him could react. With a determined hand he grabbed Cadi's wrist. A bright flash swallowed them.

The rest of the beings in the room were left to stare at the empty spot where they stood only a second earlier.

* * *

><p>TBC<p>

* * *

><p>AN: Oh boy…! That was sort of action packed. (grins)

But, the real question goes… Was that any good at all? It's time to give your vote.

I've reeeally gotta dash right now. So, folks, until next time! I REALLY hope that I'll see you all then.

Take care!


End file.
